


Follow the Star

by Lumelle



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, F/M, Some Humor, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 19:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6342259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumelle/pseuds/Lumelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle, Legolas realises he has missed something extremely important about Tauriel. On the other hand, there is something even more important that Tauriel hadn't realised about herself, either.</p><p>Fíli, Kíli, and Thorin should be moving on, but Kíli won't let the last star out of his sight. This may work out better for them than anyone expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow the Star

**Author's Note:**

> ...So basically, I was thinking "what if Tauriel was pregnant after canonical BotFA?" but that was too depressing for me to write, so instead you get this.
> 
>  **Please note** that this story deals with things such as death and loss before fixing it all in the end.

There was nothing but darkness.

Thorin had known darkness, many kinds of it in his day. There had been the shadows of the elven dungeons, the deep dark of the mines, the desperation and madness that had blinded his eyes more surely than the deepest night. Never before had he encountered darkness quite like this, though, where he could see himself well enough, but make no sense of his surroundings otherwise.

Well. That probably answered his question on how his battle had ended.

There was no sound, no sight, nothing. Just an overwhelming blanket of silence that enveloped him as he rose up to his feet, feeling nothing under his feet and hands yet finding enough purchase to push himself up.

Then, he heard the groan.

Spurred by the familiar sound, he hurried through the darkness until the shadows that weren't there parted to show a familiar figure. Fíli lay on the ground, staring up at him. For a moment Thorin was reminded of the dreadful sight of his nephew lying lifeless on the ground, but then Fíli groaned again and turned to his side, slowly pushing himself up.

"Fíli." He drew his nephew into an embrace, feeling a strange sort of relief at seeing him. Fíli looked just like Thorin remembered seeing him last, except the tears and dirt and mud were gone, leaving him whole and untouched. Somehow, that was almost more painful to see than his broken body on the ground. This was what could have been, if Thorin had not been such a fool. "You're here."

"Wherever 'here' is, yes." Fíli glanced around, then gave him a rueful smile. "I suppose you didn't run."

"I'm sorry." Thorin closed his eyes for a moment. "I couldn't — if I let Azog live —"

"It's fine." Fíli sighed. "I'm the greatest fool, parting from Kíli in the hopes he'd have better chances. Knowing him he only took it as a reason to rush in."

"You know your brother." Thorin squeezed Fíli's shoulder before letting go. It felt real enough under his hand. "I… I almost feel the pain of my injuries, still, but it's a memory rather than current aches."

"Aye, I feel the same." Fíli nodded. "I hope it will fade in time. Even as a memory it is quite the painful one."

Thorin had nothing to offer in response to this. "Have you seen your brother?" he asked instead, and wished desperately for the answer to be no. Please, Mahal, please let at least one of them to have survived his foolishness.

"Not yet." And that was not quite the right answer. "I only just came to myself. You are the first thing I see."

"Right." No, he would not allow himself to be hopeful. Not yet. "If this is death, it's not everything I was promised."

"Not great halls, that's for sure." Fíli glanced about, then froze for a moment before breaking into a run. Thorin followed him, seeing the thing that had caught Fíli's attention just before he heard the cry of, "Kíli!"

It was indeed Kíli, coming to sight in the darkness as though some shadows had parted to allow him through. Kíli, his poor younger nephew, was sitting on the ground that wasn't and staring into the darkness. As he heard Fíli's call, he seemed to perk up, but only glanced at them briefly before returning his gaze to the darkness. "Fíli!"

"Kíli! You idiot, you were supposed to run!" Fíli rushed over to Kíli's side, drawing him into his arms.

"I never was good at what I was supposed to do." Kíli gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "And it's always gotten me into trouble."

"Well, I suppose there's no more trouble for you to find." Thorin shook his head. "What is so interesting in the shadows, anyway? Don't think I've seen you sit this still since you first learnt to walk." Which was an exaggeration, but not by much. Kíli was still staring at something, even after Fíli had jostled him, and that was strange indeed.

"I just… it's that star." Kíli pointed over to the darkness, but however Thorin tried, he could see nothing reminiscent of a star. "Don't you see? It's so beautiful, and I — I don't want to turn away from it. I feel like if I do, I'll lose it, and I can't bear to let it go."

"Star?" Fíli frowned, peering over his brother's shoulder. "I don't see any stars. All I can see is the darkness and you two." He glanced over to Thorin. "Uncle? Do you see anything?"

Thorin looked around, searching, and for the first time he saw something beyond the strange shadows around them. There was a faint light far in the darkness, yes, but it was in the opposite direction from where Kíli was pointing. The light he saw was no star, though, it was a warm and comforting glow, like a fireplace after a long day's work. It was calling for him, Thorin knew, tempting him to come and follow its lead. If he listened closely he could almost imagine the friendly voices, the sounds of revelry and cheer that he hadn't heard in far too long.

He turned his gaze from the glow and saw his nephews, one staring into a light only he could see, the other not budging from his brother's side. Fíli glanced at him and followed his gaze toward the light, and Thorin could see the longing in his eyes, could see that he heard the call as well, but he still would not move away from Kíli.

Well. Thorin supposed he had all the time in the world to wait.

*

It took Legolas some time to manage to bring himself back to Tauriel.

When he did so, she was not weeping over a fallen dwarf anymore, for the simple reason that the dwarves had claimed their own. She was leaning against a stone wall, staring into the distance.

Legolas walked closer, about to greet her, when he realised something he must have been missing for a while now. It had to have been there for some time, yet somehow he had not seen it before.

"Tauriel." He hesitated, not sure if he should approach right now.

"Legolas?" She blinked, turning toward him, and now there was no mistaking it. For all her tears and pale face, there was a light in her eyes that had not been there for all the years they had known each other. He knew that light, had seen in the eyes of other kin of his, had seen the pain it left behind when it had lost its reflection.

"Tauriel." He closed the distance with a few long strides. "You… you are married." It made no sense, but he could see it now, could not deny the truth of it even if he tried.

She paused for a moment, as though thinking to deny it, but then decided against it. "I am."

"The dwarven prince." The was no doubt about it, not with how she had wept for him. "You married him." Except there could have been no ceremony, no witnesses, just oaths of love and touches he did not bear to think of.

"I did." Tauriel would not deny it, then, met his eyes without shame or lies. "Kíli, son of Dís. I gave myself to him, as was my choice. And yes, he knew what it would signify. I would not tie him to myself unawares."

"But… when?" It did not make any sense. "You would not have done anything while he was our prisoner, I know you are too honourable for that. And after they escaped, you have hardly left my side except during the battle."

"Ah." Tauriel ducked her head. "Remember when we took a moment to rest on our way toward Gundabad?"

"Yes. We were near the mountain, and —" He paused, the implications sinking in. "Tauriel! You met with him?"

"I did." Tauriel shook her head. "I did not plan it, had no way of knowing if he would be there. But… I did choose the place in hopes he might have noticed me as we went past the mountain."

"You left me sleeping unguarded in such a place to go have a tumble with your dwarf?" That couldn't be. That wasn't the Tauriel he knew.

"I would never!" Tauriel looked up at him with shock in her eyes, and that at least was familiar. "We stayed within earshot the entire time, and I checked on you several times, and —"

"That is quite enough." He did not need to imagine what his friend would have gotten up to a stone's throw away from where he slept the precious few hours he had allowed himself. "I suppose it is the best I could hope for, really."

"I will not apologise for it." Tauriel was hugging herself now, but her eyes were defiant rather than resigned. "If I was to lose my love, at least I got to have him first."

"I am not blaming you." Not long ago he might have, but not now. Not when he saw the pain in her eyes, the light behind the tears that had not been there before. Carefully, he reached to squeeze her arm. "If you will allow, I would speak to the dwarves."

"About what?" Tauriel blinked, surprised.

"About you taking part in the funeral ceremonies. After all, it is only right for you to get to say your goodbye." She trembled, but didn't draw away. She was aware of her situation, after all. "And you, I want you to go and see the healers."

"But I am not injured." Tauriel straightened herself a little, regaining some of her former steel even under the burden of her grief.

"I did not say you were." And this pained him to think of, but he couldn't deny it. "However, if you married him, and now he is gone — well. You ought to make sure you know your situation."

Tauriel's eyes widened as she caught his meaning. "You don't think —"

"I do not know either way, but you have to admit there is every chance, if indeed you gave yourself to him." Legolas shook his head. "For all I do not understand your tastes, I would not see any more grief coming to you, my friend."

"I… I suppose I should do that." Tauriel nodded. "If indeed the healers will see me, after your father cast me out."

"I will see to it that they do." He nudged her, sliding his arm around her shoulders. "Come, my friend. Let us at least wash the blood from you."

Not that he thought it would ever be truly gone, not with the pain in her eyes.

*

"Will you still not come?" Fíli sighed, looking at his brother with all the patience he could muster. "We have been here for ages, just because you won't stop dallying."

"I can't go!" Kíli still wouldn't budge from his spot, his eyes locked on something in the darkness surrounding them that Fíli still couldn't see. "Can you really not see the light, Fíli?"

"I do, but it's over there." He pointed toward the faint glow that had been calling them for a while now, growing stronger and more tempting by every passing moment. "We should go there, that's all I know. You can't keep sitting here."

"But I can see it, Fíli! It's faint, but I swear it's there, and every time I even try to walk away I can feel it calling for me." Kíli's eyes were wrought with the kind of desperation Fíli had not seen there ever before. "I can't just leave, it wouldn't be right!"

"But neither of us can see it." Which didn't mean it wasn't there, but it did make Fíli wonder. "We cannot linger here forever, Kíli. I know you left things behind, but you have to let go."

"Are you listening to yourself?" Kíli snapped. "I can't just let go! Not when I can see my star…" He trailed off, turning his eyes back toward the nothing that Fíli could not see.

"He will not listen, Fíli." Thorin's voice was quiet, but then there was nothing else to drown it away. "You have been trying all this time, and he will not budge. Clearly he's not going to follow us, not yet."

"I can't leave him here!" Fíli spun on his heel, turning to look at his uncle. "I've lived with him, and I died with him, and I will not leave him now!"

"I wasn't asking you to." Thorin walked closer, setting a hand on Kíli's shoulder. "Perhaps we ought to find him his peace."

Fíli frowned. "What do you mean?" Kíli made a questioning sound, though he still would not take his eyes off whatever he was looking at, staring as though he were famished and set to stand before a feast.

"Clearly you will not go as long as that light calls to you, Kíli, and your brother will not come with me as long as you linger here. And just sitting here and staring will not bring us any clarity." Thorin shook his head. "Clearly the only way any of us will find peace is if we find out what this invisible star you see is."

Fíli blinked. "Really?" He was surprised enough that Thorin was still here, if he felt the call as strongly as Fíli did. Even the thought of walking the other way seemed to bring pain, or at least the memory of such, and yet here Thorin was, offering to walk with Kíli off to nothingness over some imagined light.

"I have let you boys down enough." Thorin set his other hand on Fíli's shoulder. "You followed me to Erebor and to your deaths, and I can never make that up to you. I suppose the least I can do is follow you in turn."

"You'll come with me?" Kíli finally scampered up to his feet, and while he would not look away from his secret star, he leaned just a bit closer to Fíli and Thorin both.

"If that is what you need, then we will." Fíli shook his head. "I cannot see what you do, but it's even more impossible for me to go forward without you. So we'll find your star, and then we'll move on together."

"Promise?" Kíli sounded so hopeful, so fragile, as though he was just a child asking Fíli to hold his hand as they walked into some particularly scary tunnel.

"Promise." He slipped his hand into Kíli's, saw Thorin taking Kíli's other hand. "Lead the way, brother. We'll find out if this star of yours is real or a mere mirage."

And either way, they would find peace for his brother, either here or in the warm, beckoning light.

*

For all of Legolas' promises, Tauriel hadn't truly expected to be allowed into the ceremony.

Even on the day of the funeral she was hesitant enough she wasn't entirely sure she would have gone if one of Thorin's dwarves hadn't showed up that morning — an old dwarf who called himself Balin — and asked if she wished him to braid her hair.

"This is no idle offer," he said, stroking his beard with a sad look on his face. "A dwarf will not braid the hair of anyone but their kin, or allow any other to do so for them. However, if indeed you are wedded to Kíli, then you are his wife, and I am your closest kin in this mountain save for Lord Dáin himself."

"And will that be all right, then?" She did not want to assume anything, not in such matters. "People will not protest at my wearing dwarven braids?"

"Lord Dáin has already given his blessing, so any who would question it will have to face both my wrath and his." Balin shook his head. "If anything, for you to wear the proper widow's braids would prevent some of the protests, as it will prove to all that you have every right to be there."

"Then I would be glad to wear them." For all that it made her heart ache.

She sat quietly as Balin worked on her hair, his hands slow and methodical. "My brother will want to guard you," he said while securing one braid only to move on to another. "Not because he thinks you incapable, or even believes you will be in danger. He has simply been guarding Thorin's family for most of his life, and now you are all that is left of them in this mountain."

"Right." Tauriel hesitated. "Ah. There is another braid I would ask about, if you would allow."

Balin listened to her request, then leaned forward from where he had been working on the braid just to look at her with a frown. "Are you quite sure, lass?"

"I am." Tauriel nodded, swallowing as she set a hand on her stomach. She couldn't feel anything yet, but she trusted those who had assured her of it. "I have not truly felt anything, it is too early yet, but I spoke with a couple of healers, and they both confirmed it. I don't mean to make any claims or demands, I just… wish to wear what is proper. What I might have worn if I truly were his wife."

"You were." Balin reached to take her hand. "It may not have been a proper dwarven wedding, but Kíli was old enough to make up his mind on such things. If he knew that your union would constitute marriage in the elven way, and yet agreed to it, then you were married, and anything else is formalities. Lord Dáin is willing to acknowledge it, and that is all that matters." He squeezed her hand gently. "The prince died a married dwarf, and as his widow, you are entitled to be treated as kin to the royal house."

"As I said, I am making no demands." Tauriel sighed. "I do not know where I am to go, but there is nothing here for me but scorn. Perhaps Legolas can arrange for my passage to Rivendell; my knowledge as a healer is limited, but I am sure Lord Elrond will find me a place nevertheless."

"I cannot tell you what to do, but trust me when I sy I know my cousin well enough to say Dáin would not turn you away. He knows his debts, and his honour." Balin returned to work on her hair at last. "I'll add the mother's braid if you wish me to. It's not customary to wear so soon, but better make your position clear from the start, to leave no doubts to anyone."

"Somehow I don't think there will be much doubts left once this child is born." If indeed it was allowed to be born, the child of an elf and a dwarf. Such things had not happened before to her knowledge, and there was no telling if it was too much against the way things ought to be.

"Perhaps not. Even so, I would present you to the dwarves the way Kíli would have brought you forward."

There was sorrow in Balin's voice, a different kind but no less deep than the one in Tauriel's own heart. He must have known Kíli from his childhood, if indeed they were close kin, and had lost his king and Fíli as well, all at once. If doing this helped him with that sorrow at all, Tauriel supposed she could offer him that much.

If most of the dwarves looked at her strangely and murmured among themselves as they saw her walk into the grand hall beside Balin and wearing dwarven braids, well, at least the Company did not do so. A couple of them frowned at her, but nobody told her to go, and a few of them motioned for her to get closer and stand beside them. One of them stepped in to stand behind her, a huge dwarf made almost entirely of muscle and a fierce scowl, and Tauriel might have felt threatened if she hadn't remembered Balin's words about a brother who wished to guard her. A couple of members of the Company murmured their condolences to her, all clearly working to keep their own tears at bay, and Tauriel somehow managed to murmur something more or less civilised back at them.

Then Lord Dáin walked in and the ceremony started, and the entire audience fell into a hush.

She didn't understand much, what with the dwarves mostly speaking their own language, unknown to any outsiders. She heard familiar names somewhere in the speeches, saw Dáin waving toward some specific dwarves, but really she didn't pay much attention. She was too numb to do so, too focused on not falling apart, and even looking over to where the lord stood wearing gold and gems and a heartbroken expression might have been too much for her resolve.

Then the three were carried forth, dressed in their best for their last appearance before their people, and she could not take it anymore.

Tauriel had never quite grasped the secret of crying elegantly that seemed so expected of her kind. Her tears started rolling as soon as she saw the familiar face stilled in death, her hands clenched into fists to keep from clutching at her clothes, and as she caught Kíli's name among everything else Dáin said she could not hold back her wail. Her voice seemed to echo endlessly in the large hall, over and over just as the grief was piercing her heart relentlessly, leaving her no escape from her pain. The dwarves started murmuring again, and a couple of those nearest to her shifted uncomfortably, but Lord Dáin showed no disapproval and a small dwarf of the Company actually stepped closer, setting a hand on her arm with a teary smile she supposed was meant to be sympathetic.

"Can you keep it down?" a voice suddenly groaned. "My head is killing me."

Tauriel froze, the entire hall falling to a sudden silence. She might have expected some to agree with the complaint, or others to show their outrage that someone would so callously interrupt the ceremony with words in such poor taste, but it seemed as though everyone had frozen in place. She certainly was, not sure what to say or do. Even for their short acquaintance, she recognised that voice.

How was Prince Fíli complaining, when he was supposed to be dead?

"Maybe next time you'll think twice before getting dropped down a cliff," another voice said with a teasing tone, and however weak and hoarse it might have been Tauriel recognised it instantly. She knew that voice, knew it as surely as her own, felt it echoing through her heart even now.

She did not pay attention to propriety now, did not even pause to consider that she might have been mistaken, might have imagined what was surely impossible. Instead she pushed aside the dwarves around her, ran forward with no heed to anyone else. She was vaguely aware of others following her, but all she could pay attention to was Kíli, Kíli who had been laid out for his burial, Kíli who was speaking for all that it should have been impossible.

"Kíli!"

He moved at her cry, half sitting up and turning his head toward her, and if she might have feared she imagined it before now she knew this to be real, knew she could not have imagined the warmth of his smile as he saw her and reached his arms out to her. "Tauriel!"

Now there was a clamour of voices but Tauriel did not care, she did not care about anything but the arms closing around her as she knelt down to be closer to Kíli. She reached her arms around him in turn, murmuring frantic words of grief and love and devotion against his skin, desperately afraid that if she let go he might fade into nothingness.

"Tauriel, love, what is going on?" Kíli's voice was still hoarse but he was warm and breathing and alive, blessedly alive right in front of her. "I feel like I've been asleep for weeks."

"Not quite weeks, and not quite asleep." Tauriel managed a teary chuckle. "Trust you to be late even for your own funeral!"

Kíli blinked, then burst into laughter, and the sound filled Tauriel with impossible warmth. "Well! I suppose that's a tale to be told around a fireplace." He ran his hand through her hair, fingers catching on one of the widow's braids Balin had weaved there. "Tauriel, this is…"

"Legolas realised I had given myself to you," she murmured. "He negotiated for my right to attend the funeral. Your kinsman, Balin, agreed to give me these braids, as a sign of our union."

"Good old Balin! Though I'll have to give you proper ones, now that I'm apparently alive again." Kíli continued running a hand through her hair, then froze as he met another braid. "This — what is this?"

"I think you can read it better than I can." She resisted the urge to bite her lip in uncertainty.

"But — this is a mother's braid, Tauriel."

"So I was told." She looked him in the eye, willing him to understand. "I — I cannot know for sure, not yet, but the healers told me so, and —"

Kíli did not let her finish, drawing her into a kiss instead, and truly, that was all the answer that she could have hoped for. She heard others drawing closer, heard teasing voices joining the disbelieving ones, but none of that mattered right now, not when Kíli was alive and breathing and there in her arms.

"Well." This was a voice she knew, too, though she had never heard it quite so calm. "I suppose this explains just what guided Kíli back here."

As Kíli finally released her, Tauriel turned to see Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. He looked tired and wary and worn, even in his funeral finery, but he was also undeniably, definitely alive. Kíli's brother was standing beside him, grinning widely at her even as he seemed to be comforting the small dwarf from earlier, who was all but sobbing against his chest. "Your Majesty."

"Call me Thorin, if indeed my fool of a nephew has somehow managed to wed you." The dwarf shook his head, managing a small smile. "I do not claim to understand what just happened, nor do I know why I have been granted another chance at life. However, if you had any part in it — if those braids in your hair bear any truth at all — then I am willing to consider you might not be quite like your king."

"I have no king," Tauriel replied, and though she expected those words to bring her some pain, at the moment she was capable of nothing but joy. "Thranduil cast me out, for following you against his orders." She paused. "I do not think I helped the situation by aiming an arrow at his face."

That actually earned her a laugh from the dwarven king. "Well! I suppose we'll have to find you a new one, then." He turned to look over to where the still stunned Lord Dáin stood. "Cousin? Have we a king somewhere around here that the elf might borrow?"

"Well!" Dáin broke into laughter, all but beating his way through the crowd. "It's not me, that's for sure, but since we've already gathered the folks for your funeral, I suppose we might as well make it your coronation! You can have your mountain back, cousin, I have my hands quite full with mine."

"We'll all have our hands full, I fear, but then that is the good ending. I have glimpsed the alternative, and while it might have bought peace, I'm not quite ready for it yet." Thorin glanced around. "Where's the hobbit?"

There was more talk then, questions and demands and calls for someone to go get the hobbit back on their fastest goats, but Tauriel paid it all little mind. All she could focus on now was Kíli, Kíli who was healthy and whole and breathing in her arms instead of torn apart on the frozen ground, Kíli who was sliding a hand to her stomach with a look of wonder in his eyes.

"Hello there, little star," he murmured so quietly that none but the two of them could hear. "Your light is quite strong, to have brought us all home."

"It will grow stronger still," Tauriel replied. "I am not sure how easy it will be, raising a star."

Kíli grinned, and she had never seen anything more beautiful in all her years. "Good thing we'll be doing it together, isn't it?"

"Yes," Tauriel admitted. "Yes, it is."

She had thought she had no reason to remain, after the battle, had considered heading for Rivendell or even further west, when her home would not welcome her anymore. She had thought of lingering in Dale after she found out about her condition, had even considered Balin's offer, if not otherwise then because her child might have some connection at least to their father's line. The future that now opened up before her was one she hadn't dared to dream of, however, a future with a family and a home and all the beautiful things she had thought lost to her on the frozen grounds of Ravenhill yet now found in her arms.

It was a lucky thing, she thought, that dwarves were too stubborn to turn away from their goal.

Even if she suspected there would long be teasing stories about the way Fíli had interrupted his own funeral.


End file.
